


Second Skin

by welcomebackpartyhardy



Category: One Direction
Genre: 80's new wave goth shit, Bottom Zayn, M/M, Top Harry, Vampire AU, poetic blowjobs lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-03
Updated: 2015-10-03
Packaged: 2018-04-24 12:04:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4918891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/welcomebackpartyhardy/pseuds/welcomebackpartyhardy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He stands beneath the glowing red of a laundry mat sign; long brown curls turning auburn in the neon light, and the relentless buzzing of its circuits pulsing loudly in his ears. It's not the only thing flooding his senses and making his head feel hollow. The city streets are buzzing with voices, thumping with the roll of taxi tires jolting over pot holes nine blocks away, smells so numerous Harry could distinguish a thousand at a time if he wanted, and a billion other things New York could overloaded his senses with. He hates when the world becomes this; a drowning, numbing pool of life that makes him stop in his tracks and feel small despite the hundreds of years he's had to live. And its in times like this when he knows, he knows that HE is close. The illusive wandering angel he once held tightly in dark corners so afraid he would depart, the one and only who made his still heart beat again and shatter all at once. He feels it so deeply in his being, Zayn is close. And for the first time in all of Harry's 500 years...he's afraid.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Second Skin

**Author's Note:**

> This came out of a small convo about Zarry Vampires au's and my love of 80's new wave with my best friend, be gentle with me this is my first time writing a fic. 
> 
> This one's for youuu Ashley!!
> 
> Also I made a [ Spotify Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/1212735104/playlist/3xHfJmIwG3HEgAiwP9DU29) of the music that inspired this fic, feel free to listen and enjoy some old faves or discover some new tunes!

# Second Skin

 _He stands beneath the glowing red of a laundry mat sign; long brown curls turning auburn in the neon light, and the relentless buzzing of its circuits pulsing loudly in his ears. It's not the only thing flooding his senses and making his head feel hollow. The city streets are buzzing with voices, thumping with the roll of taxi tires jolting over pot holes nine blocks away, smells so numerous Harry could distinguish a thousand at a time if he wanted, and a billion other things New York could overloaded his senses with. He hates when the world becomes this; a drowning, numbing pool of life that makes him stop in his tracks and feel small despite the hundreds of years he's had to live. And its in times like this when he knows, he knows that HE is close. The illusive wandering angel he once held tightly in dark corners so afraid he would depart, the one and only who made his still heart beat again and shatter all at once. He feels it so deeply in his being, Zayn is close. And for the first time in all of Harry's 500 years...he's afraid_.

### The Killing Moon 

The first time Harry met Zayn was the fall '85. They were two bodies spinning endlessly in a room full of smoke, mirrors, and heat. Two stars swallowed in a sea of starch white faces and dark clothing; hearts pulsing and blood vibrating in hundreds of pale veins around them. And like the two celestial bodies that they were, they were draw to each other from the start. Harry remembers him vividly, even now after 30 years have passed since that initial meeting: Zayn's hair trickled down like one long stream of silver, skin giving the illusion of warmth with its beautiful brown complexion, leather jacket worn and sitting proudly upon his broad shoulders. But what Harry recalls most of all, will always be Zayn's eyes.

As much as his face wanted to be stern and unreadable, Zayn's eyes added a softness to all his features. The sharpness of his cheekbones diluted by their swirl of warm honey; set jawline made approachable by the flutter of long eyelashes as black as night, and the small freckle sitting upon the iris of his left eye added a boyish danger to his gaze. And Harry, Harry could not resist to fall under their spell. To resist the pull of Zayn's gaze so set upon him was nearly impossible to fight. Before he knew it, Harry stood before him, his body recognizing the same aura within his; the gray aura of the undead. And for a moment while he watched smoke escape like a silver snake from Zayn's smiling mouth, he confused the beat of the music pounding in his ears...for the beat of his heart so long ago gone mute within his chest.

He stood leaning against the mirrored wall closest to the glowing exit sign, double Zayn reflected like double temptation for Harry. And with The Chameleons blasting around them, Harry mumbled his hello, Zayn replying with a whispered “Want to get a bite?”. A small smirk flashed quick enough for vampire eyes only, two twinkling flashes of white tracing his bottom lip. Harry duplicated the same quick smirk and nodded; Zayn leading the way outside, cigarette dangling idly by his side between two long fingers.  
He leaned against the brick wall, “Leaning on walls must be his thing.” Harry thought to himself as he stood a few paces in front of the exit door. The night outside seemed still compared to the life bouncing back and forth across the walls of the goth club they'd just left. And this stillness only felt worse now as he stood in Zayn's presence completely alone. The moon looked fuller, bigger, brighter than usual, completely illuminating the alley way in which they stood, no street lamp in sight. It made Harry uneasy, as if the moon was trying to warn of something, of someone; warn him.

“Usually wait out here for someone to pop out for a good snog, shag, or somat in the alley,” Zayn says quietly, breaking the numbing stillness suddenly, “Easy prey really. All that blood rushing the wrong direction makes it easier to glamour people.” Harry chuckled as he watched another one of Zayn's smokey serpents trace the air around his face, raven eyelashes fluttering to keep the smoke out of his eyes. “I'm Harry by the way.” He said, gazing shyly at Zayn, scratching the back of his neck out of habit to seem more...human. “Name's Zayn” he replied, tossing the burned out cigarette on the ground and stubbing it out with the toe of his battered boot, lifting his head slightly to give Harry a small but sincere smile.

Things went still, quieter then once again, and the sensory overload hit Harry for the first time since his rebirth as a member of the undead; all from a small smile. The blaring of ambulances in the distance, the beating of the hundreds of hearts, and the flowing sound of warm blood in countless veins from within the club rattled his brain and his ears. Zayn looked up at him then in a knowing manner, reading the frantic dilation of Harry's pupils and his more than unnatural stillness. “Hey now green eyes, focus. Focus on mah voice yeh? Don't let the world swallow you up now.” Harry's ear followed then ever so slowly, pinpointing the northern brawl of Zayn's voice; with his hearing, the rest of his sense followed.

“Good. Was kinda worried there for a sec mate. Over load makes some of us vamps go blood thirsty. Like temporary insanity. Are you...new?” Zayn said with a curious and raised eyebrow. He noticed Harry coming back to him. “No I'm 470. That's...that's never happened before ” he replied with a nervous smile, a small anxious feeling crept into Harry's stomach. “Strange, that's usually a newborn thing. I'm 480!” He replied again with a bigger smile. He pulled a packet of cigs out of his jacket pocket then, the “pat-pat “ of the package against the palm of his hand to shake another cig out and the flicking sound of Zayn's lighter kept Harry focused.

It was then that a couple burst forth from the exit door with such a bang that it latched open. Their pale, make-up covered arms wrapped around each other, clumsy hands traced mesh and leather covered bodies. They kissed sloppily until finally noticing Harry and Zayn's presence. The music from inside the club could be heard clearly now with the door swung wide open. “OH SHIT I LOVE THIS SONG!” Zayn exclaimed as he stepped forward, cigarette at the corner of his mouth, eyes set squarely upon those of one half of the couple. Harry recognized the completely dead look of someone glamoured and joined in for the other.

Harry chuckles to himself now, thinking “Funny, how the simplest moment could set sail to so much”. After that night, everything was so easy with Zayn; so easy to get lost, to forget his history...himself, to forget that the 470 years he had already lived weren't all so full of hardships and losses.

And all Harry remembers from that night, after Zayn set his gaze on pale faced prey, is the metallic warmth of blood on his tongue, the taste of a crimson kiss against soft lips, his tongue tracing sharp fangs, the rush of adrenaline knowing something special was just beginning, and the soft sound of Zayn's voice singing: 

_Under blue moon I saw you_  


_So soon you'll take me_

_Up in your arms_

_Too late to beg you or cancel it_

_Though I know it must be the killing time_

_Unwillingly mine_

As if to tell the tale of his dinner's own demise, a song of utter submission. And it worked...on Harry that is. 

### It Doesn't Matter

The years after that passed bye in the blink of Harry's eyes, 5 years to be exact. Always Zayn by his side, but Harry could never shake the feeling that Zayn's presence was only temporary. He ignored the feeling, telling himself it was only anxious fear, the fear of none of it being real. But Zayn reassured him that it all was. Reminding him countless nights, wrapping his strong arms around him in sleep, the blood flushed warmth of his mouth leaving their etched markings all over Harry's milk white body, the whispered words and small smiles in dark alleys when they were on the hunt, and the sharp sting of sharing their life blood.

Harry remembers those moments the most, he see them even now. Zayn coming with countless I love you's when he'd buried his fangs into Harry's neck with a grunt, sucking the cursed blood out of him even when it had no use but to nurture love. Harry loved Zayn, and Zayn loved Harry, there was no doubt between them after nights such as that. Zayn consuming him whole, being inside Harry and Harry being inside of him through the metallic black of Harry's blood. Harry misses that most, the feeling of being consumed whole, body and soul...if he had one. Maybe he did, Zayn made him feel like he did. Made him feel alive; his all burning with every touch, every smile, and every night in which he stayed by Harry's side.

He recalls a particularly night during the long hot summer '87. Zayn pulling at him like he wanted to merge into Harry, hands roughly tracing his body against the door of Harry's apartment. Falling through it when he'd managed to get it open and Zayn's rare giggle, an impossibly innocent one which crinkled his beautiful doe eyes like a delighted child. They stayed like that on the floor, kissing deeply, hands and tongues mapping out territory long since charted. Zayn huffing out heavy breathes into Harry's mouth like he'd actually needed to breathe. Harry loved that the most, the little things they did to seem human with each other. It reminded Harry of days gone by when he'd actually BEEN human, days he had spent in the warmth of the sun. Now the closest thing he had to it was in this room: Zayn, his radiant black sun warming every dead cell in his body.

And Zayn was doing just that, warming every bit of Harry's body. Hands gripping and leaving marks wherever they could. Drifting down and under his shirt to burn fingerprints into his sides. Zayn licking Harry's nipple lightly over the fabric of his thin white t-shirt, a look of daring piercing up at Harry with each flick of the tongue. He couldn't help but moan and whine, the guttural rumble of each sound making Zayn vibrate with more and more desire to pull Harry apart. And Harry wanted to be destroyed, destroyed utterly and completely only by Zayn's doing.

Zayn's hands drifted then, down to the loops of Harry's jeans, long fingers tracing the light trail of hair right before the button, sending shivers down Harry's spine. He replaced his fingers then with his warm wet tongue, licking down the stripe as his hands worked to unbutton and unzip Harry's jeans. And those hands, those hands were like the keys to Harry's body. Perfect instruments to dismantle and reassemble Harry, over and over, night after night. And they sat there gripping at Harry's jeans, tugging them and his boxers down, and then place themselves gently upon his cock.

And the night continued like this. Zayn's hands and his tongue doing a dance, a synchronization of positions and duties. Where his hands once rested, his tongue took over, licked up the shaft of Harry's cock, flicking agonizingly slowly at dripping pre-cum and the slit as hands tugged at him gently. Harry remembers it, feeling the heat in his stomach growing second by second with each delicious lick and touch. A supernova of desire and something he had resigned to name too often, ready to explode inside of him.

Zayn sensed it, Harry is sure of that now. Sensed the growing of something much bigger than them inside of Harry. And with that realization, he looked up at Harry with a smirk and took him fully into his mouth. The surprising wet heat of Zayn's mouth had Harry ready to jump off the edge without hesitation. He sucked just as slowly as he licked, testing the supernova in Harry's stomach, trying to push the catalyst of its explosion. Harry could hardly take it, the swallowing around his cock felt too good to hold back, until Zayn lifted his mouth off of him with a pop and another signature smirk as if knowing Harry was ready to burst. He placed his mouth on Harry again, this time holding still, whiskey eyes looking up to Harry as if it say something.

And Harry knew what he wanted, knew what Harry himself wanted. Harry laced his fingers in the now short tuft of silver hair and pushed down. Without hesitation he fucked into Zayn mouth. Zayn humming and moaning as best he could with Harry's dick deep in his throat. The vibrations of Zayn's noises made the sensation too much, Harry's chest rumbling with more guttural moans. “Zayn-” he grunted, Zayn looking up at him something mischievous twinkling in his eyes, “-I'm gonna come.” he groaned. And finally the supernova inside him burst, the sticky heat shooting itself down Zayn's throat. And he swallowed it without hesitance, with hunger even, as Harry's body trembled; the after shocks of such an amazing sensation rolling through him. Zayn lifted himself off of Harry quickly and without warning only to bite the inside of Harry's thigh, another quick and unexpected spurt of cum trickling out of Harry's cock, Zayn licking it and the small wound clean.

The room went quiet then, Harry's fake and heavy breathing the only noise breaking the stillness. Zayn crawled up Harry's body only to lie beside him on the floor. They wrapped each other in tired arms. It was then that Harry grew unafraid to utter the name of the accompanying feeling next to his desire and the words spilled forth, “I love you Zayn.” But there was no response, just a small huff of breathe, a weak smile felt against the flesh of his neck, and the usual soft whisper of Zayn's singing before they drifted off in to heavy sleep:

 _If we should meet again_  


_Don't try to solve the puzzle_

_Just lay down next to me_

_And please don't move a muscle_

And it was then Harry knew things were changing. And that scary feeling deep down came creeping up again; he knew that one day he would wake up or turn his back and Zayn would be gone. But till then, Harry thought, he'd enjoy every second left and every little moment Zayn had given him...

\-----------------------

_He's still standing there, paralyzed by the world, paralyzed by the fear. He's trying to focus, “Focus now on the buzzing of the neon sign!”, and as hard as he's trying the world won't shut up. He feels the hunger boiling deep in his gut, bubbling up to his throat and if it gets to his brain it'll be too late. But then, it's behind the pink tinted cloud of steam coming from the street that he sees him. He's just a shadow for now, just a shadow in the atmosphere in front of Harry. But the voice comes slowly gently with a small click of boot heels, “I'm here Haz”, Harry's ears picking up the sound like its the only clear radio frequency in his brain, “....I'm here.”_

_…...............Why was he afraid again?_

_But much as the voice is soothing, pulling him back, he can't help but be reminded; Harry remembers now as he has this whole time. Remembers why he is afraid again: “My heart is already broken, how much more can it take? “And then it floods back, time reversing in his head. He remembers the night, the night in December of '89, one of the coldest years on record. The last and coldest night Zayn stood by his side. The last time that they shared blood._

### New Dawn Fades

They were walking down the street on one of the sparse nights they spent together as of late. Blasts of cold air hitting their faces with no effect, snow bordering the walkways like fine cut lace by countless busy feet trampling over it. And more of it fell minute by minute from the sky like sparkling sugar. That winter had suffered the wrath of a polar vortex, and with it, Harry and Zayn's relationship. Zayn spent nights away from Harry then, hunting alone and coming back to him only to rest without a word, with no more songs to hum. Growing distant and cold, without a clue in sight and as much as Harry tried, he could not get or find a reason why. He tried to be warm, to be patient with Zayn; Tried to be harsh and push him but Zayn had turned into the marble Harry had once joked he'd been carved out of, “You're perfect like Michelangelo's David.”

And this night he was suddenly different; warm, optimistic, holding Harry's hand down the sidewalk as they walked. Honey eyes gazing, face smiling fondly at every snow covered roof top and Christmas covered skyscraper of the city as if it was his last time he'd be seeing it. And he'd looked at Harry the same way, let himself drown in the green of Harry's eyes all night as if it was the last time he would see him, and Harry knows now that it was exactly the case. But back then, Harry 's heart foolishly believed it had cracked the safe, changed the icy exterior Zayn had built up after months of prying.

Under the glow of the neon Radio City Music Hall hall, eerie red just like the one he is drowning in now, Zayn had buried his face into Harry's neck. A smile tracing his flesh like he had missed, fangs slightly tickling his ear, whispered that old familiar phrase: “Want to get a bite?” And Harry nodded, with a happy love blind kiss to Zayn's cheek. They went back to the old familiar, the place where it started it all. “For one last drop” Harry knows now.

And they stood there in that alleyway again, Zayn kissing Harry longingly against the brick wall this time, no distance, no stillness between them. Just that moon, that pale killing moon shining brightly in the sky. Like a warning sign screaming through dark clouds pregnant with snow as Zayn's tongue glided into Harry's mouth. Saliva full of heavy words Zayn could never speak and Harry completely incapable of translating them, love keeping his brain under lock and key. They grasped on to each other then, Zayn's head resting on Harry's chest, fake breathe somehow steaming in the freezing air.

“You make me feel so...alive” he'd heard Zayn whisper. Something in the tone of his voice almost teary, made the anxious feeling rear its ugly head in the pit of Harry's stomach. And with it came the sensory over load, hitting hard for the second time; the thumping of some new wave song inside the club hollowing out his head first, the human heart beats blending into it. Then the smell of iron and sweat, the smells of sex and alcohol flooding his nose. The tiny snowflakes, far too many for any normal person to count, there for him to tally; all sparkling work of nature's art on the ground if he stared to hard with the zoom of his inhuman eye sight going in and out. Zayn's calling to him now, shaking him but for some reason, his lighthouse of a voice isn't breaking through.

And its then that just like the first night, a couple with the misfortune to want to pop out for a quick shag bursts through the door. The hunger boiling and bubbling to Harry's brain as the smell of their blood pumping over takes him, Zayn's quiet pleas trying to anchor it down, strong hands gripping his arms. He looks at Zayn, eyes dead and dull, “Let it take you. Let it take us.” And Zayn's arms drop from Harry's then, a cruel look of mischief suddenly sparkling in his eyes. “This is the last time...go nuts.”, he thinks to himself. And the glamours set in, these two make up caked people under the spell of something so much stronger than human will.

Harry's never hunted like this, every one of his senses is on fire, every detail of his prey practically advertising itself to his eyes, his nose, his fingers, his tongue. He takes the woman, the cracks in her make up are like a trail of riverbeds to the uncovered skin of her neck, it's so smooth that Harry can't wait to pierce and ruin it with the intrusion of his teeth. The pulse of her heart vibrating like a guitar string at her neck, the blood practically singing to him. His fangs drawn out, the opening of his flesh to set them free arousing. And Zayn sees this with hungry eyes, dick getting half hard just as he sets his gaze upon the man before his drug addled brain can click together whats happening and run, fangs out and lips curled to show them off.

They draw them to the corner of the alley where the club meets the surrounding buildings, to feast in the shadows like the monsters they are, the one your parents warned you about. Its a place where moonlight can not touch, a shadowy place they've inhabited before countless nights when things were different, when things for good to be free to be the creatures they are. And as crazed as Harry's brain is, part of him stirs, still finds comfort and control in this darkness; a strange home where blood has been shared with Zayn. And its where he makes this woman lay slowly within his arms, lulled by the green ocean of his eyes in a strange haze near sleep and death.

Zayn watches him steadily from the corner of his glowing eyes, licking lightly at the well of the man's neck making sure Harry can hear the friction between flesh and taste buds. The crimson life just waiting beneath to be drawn forth, coaxed with the tingle of Zayn's tongue. And Harry feels him, feels his gaze as if he's waiting on Harry to tap into the source of life first. He realizes its a strange game they're playing, both of them hard from this dance of life and death. He's deciding on whether to play god tonight, to take only what he needs from this fragile woman in his arms, or to take all of it. Which one will get Zayn pressed against a wall with Harry's dick inside of him?

He decides to put Zayn out of his hungry misery, fangs flashing for a quick second as he bites into the woman's neck. The warmth of her blood, the way it trickles lightly against the flesh of his mouth doing more to arouse him. And Zayn bites into his prey too, a small moan emitting from his parched throat as he breaks into the man's flesh, eyelashes fluttering as the surge of life and warmth floods into his mouth. There's no greater feeling, the strange intertwining of something sexual and the feast for a vampire. This strange orchestration of another kind of intercourse; teeth in, blood out, an exchange of rich fluids.

Harry feeds like there is no end to his hunger, the over load making the hunt and the feast so much more than its ever been. His body tingling not only with the sensation of new life flooding into his body, but of hearing the sucking sounds Zayn makes as he feeds of the pale man's neck. He's never felt more electric than now, embracing the power he has over such a fragile life, taking away so many chances with each drop of blood he consumes. Its not like him at all to be this way, so cruel and so hungry, but he's given in to it. And so, he watches as the rosy of the unpainted skin goes pale in his arms, dewy flesh going cold as the wind.

And its as if Zayn is doing this dance with him, two gods in their shadowy dominion taking life as they please. The man growing white as the snow in Zayn's arms, the woman looking as if she's drifted off into a peaceful sleep, a small small on her face as death welcomes her with warm arms in Harry's. What a rush. And its when the light of life is almost gone from the blood that they let the bodies drop, soft thuds in the pure snow, whatever's left painting it bright red. And then the lust kicks in, so much harder than the hunger in Harry's gut.

Mouths usually clean, fangs precise like surgeons are now covered in blood, mindless, and clashing as they leave small bites upon the other. Black blending in with the red. Heavy warm breathe huffing in and out, hands grabbing and groping like they'll float off and never ground again. Harry pushes Zayn against the wall, chest first with his arms pinned behind his back, licking and nipping at his neck, breathing lightly upon it to send chills down his spine. He smiles knowing the tease the Harry is, he wants so badly, they both do.

“You're mine, you got that? You always will be.” Harry huffs out as he palms Zayn's dick through his jeans, bets in his mind that he's already leaking just like him. Zayn nods repeatedly, whining with the friction and the much needed release it provides. Zayn knows that if he wanted to, he could have complete control over Harry, could have HARRY begging against this wall, but this is the last time and he's giving his all to Harry. Just one last time before he's gone, but Harry doesn't need to know that. So he lets him do this, have complete control, enjoys the little moment now with Harry's hands in his jeans, stroking him excruciatingly slowly, the soft dull pain of pleasure and love aching in his heart.

And its then that Harry pulls his jean and briefs down to his ankles, Zayn keeping his arm's behind his back obediently without a word. Harry's hands running down lightly, fingertips burning over the flesh of his thighs and his arse for what feels like hours, until gently pushing apart the flesh there with his thumbs and licking lightly at the rim. Zayn quivers at the sensation with a small moan, feels Harry's Cheshire cat grin against his flesh as he continues to lap at his hole. Gets him messy and wet, until hit tongue darts in and out, Zayn unable to contain the sounds in his chest, arms begging to move. But Harry gives a small “No”, to keep Zayn's arms in place.

His cock is screaming to be touched, red and leaking and he feels Harry smile again, knowing. He gives Zayn's hole a break, taking a hand to stroke him using the pre-cum to get him and his fingers slick. Zayn's eyes practically roll into the back of his head as Harry's pre-cum coated fingers enter him slowly and without warning. Sliding in and out with ease as they're joined by Harry's tongue. “Fuck” he grunts as they go in deeper, stretching as Harry scissors them. Harry gives his rim a small teasing nibble and Zayn's practically shaking ready to fall on his knees as Harry curves a finger against his prostate. He's seeing stars again even in the pitch black of this alleyway corner.

“You ready?” Harry whispers with a smile, fingers slipping out, leaving Zayn feeling empty. “Fuck Harry I need you. I need this. Please...” he whispers against the wall. Harry strokes himself a few times to slick himself up with his own wetness. Grabs Zayn's shoulder and pushes down to bend him over. He gives a long moan as he enters Zayn slowly, something he does to torture him, only to find its just as excruciating for him as Zayn clenches the further he goes in. He's never felt so secure in the world as he is now, with him inside of Zayn's warmth, no sense of distrust or distance between them in this moment.

“Fuck me Harry, fuck me hard” Zayn says, voice shaking now that Harry's all the way in him. And Harry does as Zayn says, the control out the window as he pumps into Zayn's ass without holding back, holding his wrists in his giant hand as the other grips on to Zayn's shoulder. He cries out with each thrust, Harry hitting his prostate each time, he doesn't just see stars now he sees whole galaxies, universes even as the white heat is ready to burst. Harry pumps faster now, harder grunting each and every time, both their eyes fluttering with the unbelievable surge of heat growing bigger and bigger in their stomachs.

“I'm gonna...” Harry manages to say through gritted teeth, but Zayn cuts in, “I want you to come in me.” So Harry thrusts his hips 3 more times, only this time going deeper than before and with one loud groan, lets his white heat spill into Zayn's ass. Zayn clenches around Harry, milking more cum from his cock, the slick warmth of it making him cry as he comes against the wall. Harry pumps him slowly, still fucking into him as the sensitivity of his cock is killing him. But Harry slows down each thrust, slipping out eventually, his cum dripping slowly out of his hole. And Harry bends down again to clean and taste himself, Zayn trembling now.

And Harry holds him afterward, when they get back to the apartment. Both of them never losing contact with the other as they walk along the shadows of the streets to hide the blood. He holds him that night like he's so sure everything is in its right place again, with their world. Secure again in this universe of blood and stars they've built for themselves, without a single fear in his body as Zayn lies sleeping and fucked tired in his arms. 

So in the morning, when his arms are empty, when he's noticed there is no trace of Zayn Malik but a single song playing on a record player he'd left behind, Harry feels dead again. Feels whats its like to be cold for the first time in all his 474 years. as his apartment feels hollow. And to this day he shivers a little every time he hears Ian Curtis' voice.

_A change of speed, a change of style._

_A change of scene, with no regrets_

_A chance to watch, admire the distance, ___

_Still occupied, though you forget...._

### All the Way

_“Harry! Come back to me Harry. I'm right here.” the voice is saying. The haze of memory and the blood lust dulling ever so slowly and Harry feels like a drowning man being pulled out of water. The sensory overload still sits heavily in his lungs if only someone could pump it out of his chest, break his ribcage even. “Just get it out of me” he says out loud, and he listens. Places two soft hands on each side of his face. And that's when eyes like honey, eyes like whiskey in a cold glass, meet eyes like every shade of green on earth again. And the world finally shuts up. The air feels like a punch into Harry's collapsing lungs._

_“You're here.” Its all he can say. The only words he can muster really, and its quite a shame since there's so much more that needs to be said. “I am.” It's all Zayn can say, and that's quite the shame really. since there's so much more an important word that needs to be spoken. But they stay quiet like this, Zayn's hands on Harry's cheeks, foreheads now pressed together as their skin glows red under the laundry mat sign, not a soul in sight. And Harry can't help himself, closes his eyes and leans his head into one of Zayn's hands._

_“Traitor” he says to his heart but he feels right again, to be here in Zayn's hands. And maybe this time, they'll go all the way...._

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for taking the time to read my mess!! Send me a hello on [Tumblr](http://www.zaddyslilminion.tumblr.com) or something.


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